


Snowfall

by HDLynn



Series: Yellow Chaser Universe [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Confessions, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Mild Language, Protective!Paz, Resolved Mutual Pining, Some Fluff, bounty hunting gone wrong, death (not major characters), longing is in the hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26717140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDLynn/pseuds/HDLynn
Summary: When a bounty goes sideways and a snowstorm rolls in you know Paz Vizsla will get you back to the ship safe, so long as you don't bleed out before then.
Relationships: Paz Vizsla/Reader, Paz Vizsla/You
Series: Yellow Chaser Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944367
Kudos: 68





	Snowfall

You should have known something, heard something, seen something.

But you hadn’t.

It had been a week of tracking down this bounty on the completely frozen tundra planet that the locals called Ceonn, you preferred to call it ‘ice-covered shit hole’. The entire planet was either cold arctic tundra where it was “warm” and the rest was literal polar desert which, of course, you guessed it, even colder.

Currently, you were in the depths of Yema’s Ice Desert, which you had found out had been fittingly named after an explorer who had died trying to originally map the area. As far as the eye could see was barren wastelands of windswept layers of ice and snow with the occasional higher ground made up of rocky outcroppings or layers of ice that had shifted and been pressed out of the rest of the ice pack.

It was cold but the air was also bone dry, the kind of arid biome that caused your lips to crack and split under your helmet. The lip balm you had put on this morning before heading out had unfortunately worn off several hours ago leaving you uncomfortable and trying to not lick your cracked lips since you knew it would just make things worse in the long run but it was still had to not keep doing it.

It was an odd bounty job, namely since it had been placed by the New Republic. Usually, they had their own enforcers to deal with criminals and the remnants of the Empire. But this job had come to the guild and would pay well upon the delivery of the asset alive.

Unnecessary questions were not asked, of course, no one working bounty jobs asked those sorts of things. However, knowing your target was important. Knowing their background gave clues into how they thought and operated.

They were an ex-trooper, had been assigned as a personal bodyguard to one of the Moffs for several years. But had bounced as soon as things started going south for the empire, loyalty was obviously not high on his priority list. They were also smart, knew that they had too much information to be safe to let his old master’s live to implicate them, and would probably be convicted of war crimes by the New Republic even if he cooperated with them in giving details about his Moff’s workings.

So thus you and Paz had tracked them to Ceonn and promptly frozen your shebs off.

You had been griping mentally about the shitty cold weather and had been a bit distracted. Otherwise, you might have noticed the shifting of white on white in your peripheral. But you hadn’t.

A blaster bolt hit you square in the back, your backplate of durasteel throwing up a cascade of golden sparks in the overcast gray light.

Running purely on instinct you had your knife out as you turned. Your brain barely had registered the white form of smooth plastiod — the sharp angles stood out in subtle contrast with the texture of the windblown snow — before you let the knife fly.

They were not that far, only a few paces really. You cursed yourself internally — _di’kut_ — you’d practically walked right over the top of them and not noticed.  
The knife glanced off their shoulder before skittering off into the snow with a soft swoosh.

The trooper instantly dropped their blaster with a pained grunt confirming you had, at least, hit them.

Going for the blaster in your belt you found yourself taking a step back as your opponent lunged for you.

They snarled like a feral animal, the sound horrifically mechanical and human at the same time coming through their modulator. They were quick too, perhaps their movements were fueled by pure desperation, wanting to stay alive despite the fact that it was clear that their enemies were willing to pay for the best the guild had to offer.

Or perhaps you had underestimated them, a stupid mistake your brain supplied unhelpfully as the trooper slammed into you. The only thing that kept you upright instead of toppling right over was your firm stance and your will to stay upright flooding through your muscles and tendons. But staying upright didn’t keep the trooper from getting his hands on your blaster.

You both grappled with the weapon, the trooper jamming down hard before somehow getting a grip on the trigger. A bolt of red energy ripped through your side, pulling a scream from your mouth that you channeled into a roar. The pain disappeared in a flood of adrenaline as you smashed the brow of your buy'ce directly into the visor of the trooper’s helmet.

A crack resounded in the still cold air as the plastoid composite gave way to your beskar. It wasn’t enough to kill, but it was enough to hurt, to disorientate. That was all you needed.

As the imp reeled back slightly, their grip on the blaster let up enough that you were able to grapple it away from them. The instant you had the blaster in your control you whipped it at their head and then kicked out their knee in quick succession.

They went down with a cry, sinking into the snow. You then aimed the blaster and fired.

Crimson blood started to bloom in the powdery snow, stark against the ground and the dead man’s armor.

Breathing heavy, your heart pounding still from the kill, you remembered an important fact, namely that this bounty puck was only a full amount for this piece of shit being alive and you had just blasted him away. _Shit_. Kriffing… shit.

Paz was going to kill you.

You clutched at your side, feeling the warm slick of your blood starting to seep into the fabric of your kute, oozing over and covering your gloved hand.

Looking up at the grey sky, it was becoming clear that is was going to storm and it was also getting dark, real dark.

“Kriffing, _damn it_!” You threw the dead trooper’s blaster away in a fit of anger, the emotion easiest to latch onto as the pain in your side didn’t let up.

Taking a breath to center yourself, your trembling fingers punched in your current location to Paz from your vambrace.

“On my way to your location, you have ‘em warm?” Paz asked, his voice crackling through your helmet’s speakers just moments later.

Vision swimming and your head suddenly feeling heavy, you swayed slightly before shaking the darkness off. Now was _not_ the time to pass out over a little flesh wound.

You decided to start with the bad news, “Bounties’ cold. Got the drop on me…got hit in the side.”

There was a tense silence over the com for a moment before Paz responded.

“Take care of what you can, I’ll be at your location shortly.”

The channel clicked off as you started binding off the wound as best you could with the mini medkit you had on your belt. Honestly, that had gone a lot better then you had figured. You’d seen your al’verde ream out other hunters for, in your opinion, lesser fuck ups on the field.

You fumbled with the bandages a bit and did your best to put pressure on the wound. The angle was a bit odd but it kept you busy until you heard footsteps coming your way.

“Su cuy'gar,” the familiar modulated tone of Paz called out. He was making a good amount of noise, probably making sure you weren’t about to get spooked and shoot him accidentally.

You blurted out the first thing that came to mind as Paz came over to you, “I lost my knife.”

He stopped short and you could tell he was looking at you funny.

“We’ll get you a new one,” Paz said plainly as he drew closer. “Now let’s see what the damage is.”

Paz growled as he checked the wound, the sound sent a flash of worry down your spine before you shook the feeling off. Even in your light-headed state, you trusted him not to hurt you.

Ream you out for fucking up? That was a different story.

He was your al'verde, after all, he took things that happened on the field personally. When one of his own was wounded, you knew from experience, he often took it as a failing of his. You knew if you survived this hunt you would be getting probably put through the wringer with drills.

“Kriff, they got you deep, cyare,” Paz hissed out as he peeled the bandage back, your head swam at the sensation finding it hard to focus.

Not able to look at the wound again, you stared up at the grey sky. There was the start of large white snowflakes starting to fall down you realized. Actually, now that you noticed, it was coming down rather quickly. When had that started? Was it when the wind has started to pick up? It was already howling, sending little whirls of snow dancing this way and that.

You were broken from your reverie as the pain returned to your side and you tried to squirm away. Paz’s voice brought you back into the moment.

“Stay still,” he ordered sternly as he continued to spray a blood-clotting drug onto your wound. It was an imperfect fix. The spray would only help the wound clot but it was still liable to start bleeding again, and easily so, until the wound was treated with bacta or cauterized. The combination of your tiny field med-kit and his being all the first-aid that could be given until you reached the ship again.

Your fuzzy brain told you it must be bad if Paz thought the spray was needed. The stuff was cheaper than bacta, because it wasn’t as helpful as a product, but it could be used on the field in a pinch.

“Cuyir bic dush?” you asked. The words were thick on your tongue with an emotion you couldn’t identify.

Paz didn’t answer immediately as he used some extra bandages he had in his belt to more tightly bind the wound at your side as best he could for the moment. The sudden pressure on the wound caused you to gasp out before you could hold it in, the pain riding a thin line of keeping you hyper-aware of everything and just passing out.

Your al’verde muttered out an apology and kept a steady hand on your shoulder to make sure you didn’t collapse. Even in this state you couldn’t help but notice how solid he felt, how large his hand was settled in the spot between your neck and the beskar pauldron you wore.

“Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur,” he said, repeating the words you both had spoken this morning before splitting up. “I’m not letting you die on my watch, little one.”

The bounty was left behind, the spread of crimson blood having halted as the body cooled. The ground starting to freeze what was once a warm and living being while the snow had started to gather thickly over them. Paz had saved your paged location so you could return later for the body. The storm that had been brewing barreled down too quickly to have to worry about dragging a frozen corpse behind you both.

Even with the helmet and all its visual enhancers, you kept stumbling over the uneven terrain. Or perhaps it was over your own feet? It was hard to tell, your feet and hands were starting to feel a bit numb.

Catching yourself once, twice, three times, you finally stumbled too baldly to compensate. You didn’t realize you were down until you were feeling your knees and the palms of your hands throbbing as you stared at the icy ground.

“You have to stay awake,” Paz yelled out over the howling winds. A large hand found the edge of your backplate and hauled you up.

Paz quickly checked over your wound to make sure the clotting was holding before he was shoring you up with an arm looped around you.

“We’re almost there and then I can patch you up.”

You found the strength to nod once, and then Paz had you going again. His large form bent forward against the wind, likely keeping track of the direction you were on inside his visor’s display. It was impossible to ignore now that you were tucked into his side that your al’verde had made sure to put himself into the main brunt of the wind.

One foot in front of the other, over and over. Steps turning into just a dull repeat that you knew you wouldn’t be able to start up again if you stopped. Eventually, you let your head loll to rest against the solid strength of Paz’s chest.

You felt a rumble of him speaking even through your helmet before the words made sense.

“Chin up, we’re almost there.”

You squinted into the swirling whiteness, it took a moment for your eyes to focus but then you saw it. The dark shape of the old gunship, the _Yellow Chaser_ , starting to seemingly materialize before you both. Relief flooded you as you both crossed the last distance to the promise of shelter and warmth.

Paz helped you up the ramp, snow swirling around you both before abruptly settling once the ramp was back up and in place.

You were quickly maneuvered to sit on a crate before Paz left your side to get the med-kit.

He was back sooner then you had realized. How such a large man could move so quickly baffled you.

“Can I?” he asked first before trying to take off any of your armor or pull up your top layers.

You nodded tightly and he immediately went to work. Easily finding the magnetic clasps on your armor, he set it aside carefully before exposing the wound.

The exposure to the warmer air on the ship oddly made you shiver, or maybe to was how careful his touch was. It was hard to parse the two things at the moment.

After flushing any fabric bits that had been left stuck in the wound, Paz paused.  
He spoke your name softly, like an apology, “We don’t have enough bacta for this.”

“Use the cauterizer,” you supplied automatically even as you tensed. You didn’t like using the cauterizer but was the best option at the moment.

Vizsla grunted, obviously not happy but grabbing the slender device all the same.

You pumped yourself up for the first touch of burning pain, like ripping off a very very painful bandaid, breathing deep and even. But he seemed to be frozen, the cauterizer wavering a few inches away from your side.

“Do it,” you grit out, re-pinning the edge of your shirt up with one arm as you proceeded to pull off a leather glove and shove it under your helm. The leather was cold and tasted of blaster residue, more familiar than it was unpleasant.

Your alor’ad grunted before switching the cauterizer on and setting to work.

A large hand settled on your side above the wound, skin on skin. You pondered a moment — when had he taken his gloves off — but your thoughts were cut short at the sudden searing pain in your side.

 _Fuck_ , it hurt worse than when you had been shot. An almost animal whimper escaped past your gritted teeth as you tried to stay still. Tried to breathe. Tried to not pass out as the darkness started to creep around at the edges of your vision.

The next thing you knew, you were laid flat out on the floor and blinking up at the ceiling.

“You with me?” Paz asked.

He sounded really worried, who was he worried about? As you rolled your head to look at him it clicked into place, you had passed out. Of course he was worried about you.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, still groggy and trying to sit up. The glove, which had fallen from your mouth when you had passed out, slipped onto the floor with a soft plop.

Paz’s helmet tilted, apparently confused, even as he helped you sit up and make sure you didn’t pass out again. ”Why are you apologizing?”

“I messed up with the bounty, we’ll only get a pittance for bringing him in cold.” You explained since Paz seemingly had forgotten why you both were even on this stupid planet.

“Fuck the bounty,” Paz said firmly as he stood up, no room for argument in his tone.

“But-”

“No!” He cuts you off in a tone you’ve only heard him reserve for the direst circumstances.

You couldn’t hide the full-body flinch a the tone, the level of pain you were still in making it harder to control your reactions how you normally would, as shame and something else filled the pit of your stomach.

Paz had seen it though, even with the helmet your momentary fear of him had been plain. His body seemed to cave in on itself as he took one knee and then the other at your side, becoming smaller than you had ever seen your al’verde.

“Kriff… shit. N'eparavu takisit, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. You matter more than any bounty. I…” Paz says, his hands clenching and unclenching in uncharacteristic nervous energy. “The covert needs you, ruusaan’ika. There are so many who rely on you.”

Instead of being eased in your worry, your heart sank at his words.

Yes, the covert needed you. The tribe needed you just like they needed every member. Your people were only strongest when all worked together, yet… for how close-knit your people were? You still felt desperately alone at night. When you went back to your little room, and your little cold bed, the momentary freedom of being able to take the helm off turning slightly sour sometimes in how adrift you felt. A cavern of space between you and the man who… no you couldn’t think of that.

“Yeah, I just don’t feel really reliable to anyone right now,” you said gesturing you to side, trying to bring a bit of humor or just something to cut through this tension that was stretched tight between you and the large blue Mandalorian.

“You are… you always are to me.”

You looked at him sharply. Sat there wishing to the maker you could see his face, see if the features behind the beskar and dark glass visor matched the way Vizsla’s words sounded, raw and unguarded. Like the words were strangling him even as they came out. It wasn’t a tone you had heard from him before, not to your recollection.

He must have felt your question before you had even decided if you were brave enough to voice it. A large, still ungloved hand reached out slowly, palm up in appeal. You watched him hesitate though, waiting for your consent for the touch.

There was a moment of thought for you, wondering if you could handle a gentle touch without your tightly held heart shattering. But his hand remained held out and steady, you couldn’t help but reach out until your palms met.

Paz’s hand was rough with callouses and scars in places and worn smooth in others, he was so large you felt tiny in comparison. The dry warmth of him sank into you as your fingertips brushed feather-soft against him, your stomach flipping again.

Cradling your hand within his warm one, Paz drug it up to rest on his breastplate, directly above his Kar'ta Beskar.

“You’re always my ruusaan’ika,” he said softly, a whisper of his unfiltered voice layering in with the modified tone of his helmet’s systems. “I’m just the di’kut who didn’t kriffing realize it until I saw your blood in the snow.”

“Paz…” you trailed off, stunned and your stomach flipped.

“I want to court you,” he said.

The words so blunt and to the point, all you could do was let out a flustered laugh.

“I mean it,” Paz sounded slightly anxious now. You wondered if he was pouting underneath his helmet, wondered what he looked like with pouting lips, and if he got a little wrinkle between his eyes.

“Honestly, Paz? I’d like that, but could we do something first?”

“Anything, cyare.”

The affectionate term came out of the large man so easily you couldn’t help but grin widely.

“I think I really need to crash in my bunk for a couple of hours… or days.”

A deep rumble rolled through Paz’s chest, his thumb stroking over your knuckles.

“I think we can manage that.”

~*~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Translations  
> Shebs - backside/rear/ass  
> Di’kut - idiot  
> buy'ce - helmet  
> Vod(e) - comrade(s)/brother(s)/sister(s)  
> Kute - bodysuit worn under armor  
> Su cuy'gar - Hello - lit. (You're still alive.)  
> ruusaan’ika - little reliable one  
> Cyare - beloved  
> cuyir bic dush - Is it bad  
> Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur - Today is a good day for someone else to die  
> N'eparavu takisit - sorry (lit: I eat my insult)  
> Kar'ta Beskar - iron heart


End file.
